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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28941018">Wristchains</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>BioShock 1 &amp; 2 (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>:(, Angst, Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Gen, Human Experimentation, Hurt No Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, Lab Rat Jack, Unethical Experimentation, ask me if i need to tag anything else, did somebody say lab rat jack?, please expand this tag I’m begging, the people who draw jack with yellow eyes are my favorite people</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:01:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,199</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28941018</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of instances from a young Jack's experimentation and development.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jack &amp; Brigid Tenenbaum</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Wristchains</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>If anyone wants to write this but better, please feel free! I really like this concept and just used my limited knowledge to write something for fun.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The kid was bored.</p><p>He had been fiddling with his puzzle toys all day, and no one had checked on him in hours. It wasn’t too unusual, except that he’d heard one of them mumbling a lot about ‘a visit,’ so he assumed <i>something</i> was going to happen today.</p><p>The kid sighed and put his hands on his chin.</p><p>He didn’t know his name. He knew everyone was supposed to have a name, but he didn’t. He’d only been referred to as ‘the child’ or ‘boy’ or ‘freak of nature.’ He didn’t like that last one very much.</p><p>His daily lessons with Miss “Ten-an-bom” hadn’t even lasted that long. Were they preparing for something?</p><p>There was only so long a genetic experimentation could go without becoming bored.</p><p>Just then, the door opened. Miss Ten-an-bom beckoned him. “Come here, little one, there is someone to see you.”<br/>
The kid stood up in a heartbeat. “Really?” he asked as he followed the woman.<br/>
“Yes,” she responded.</p><p>His eyes brightened with anticipation. He’d never had visitors before! He hoped they were nice. Miss Ten-an-bom was nice enough, but Mister Suchong was very scary.</p><p>As they entered the main room of the “basement,” as he’d heard the adults call it, he saw a new face. He was tall, bald, and had a suit on. He looked mean, but the kid held onto his hopes.</p><p>“Is that him?” the man asked. His voice was low and slow.<br/>
Mister Suchong was also in the room. “Yes,” he said.<br/>
The man knelt down next to the kid. “Hey, kid,” he drawled, “I’m Frank Fontaine.” He turned to Suchong. “How old is he?”<br/>
“Six weeks. Physically 3 years.”<br/>
“Good.” Fontaine returned his gaze to the kid. “Are your eyes supposed to be like that?”<br/>
“Like what?” asked the kid. He had noticed he could see a little yellow glow in the dark, but he’d never paid too much attention to it.<br/>
“Eh, nevermind. D’Ya have a name, kid?”<br/>
The kid shook his head.<br/>
Fontaine smiled. “How about… Jack?”<br/>
The kid grinned. “I like that name!” he answered. Jack felt great about having a name.</p><p>The adults started talking again. Jack found it hard to listen. He tapped his bare feet on the cold floor. It made a little ‘pat-pat’ sound.<br/>
The only thing he heard from the conversation was “phrase,” but he’d heard that word many times in the basement.</p><p>After they talked for a while, Fontaine left and Ten-an-bom took Jack back to his room. </p><p>Jack sat on his cot, fiddling with his color cube. He looked up. “Miss Tenenbaum? What’s wrong with my eyes?” He didn’t know why that was the sentence that stuck with him.<br/>
She looked at him. “Nothing, little one. Normally, eyes are not as bright as yours are. That is all.”<br/>
She gave him a small smile before closing the door.</p><p>Jack looked at the ceiling, seeing the abnormal yellow tinge contrasting the dim lighting of his room.</p><p>
  <i>Am I really a freak?</i>
</p><p>------------</p><p>In the four months Jack had been in the basement, he’d had one room with a few toys. The room was fairly small, with his cot and a shelf. The shelf held various puzzle toys, his favorite being the color cube, and his Big Daddy stuffed animal. The shelf also held extra hospital gowns in case his normal zipped-up white one was lost.<br/>
In the basement, his days mostly consisted of testing and playing. Tests usually weren’t too bad, except for when they stuck needles in him, but those only hurt for a second. Other tests were just asking him to stand places and testing his reflexes.<br/>
Whenever Jack played, he was told to do it in his room so he didn’t bother Papa Suchong.</p><p>Today, however, was special, as Jack was let into the main room to stack his lego blocks.</p><p>Mr. Fontaine was back in today, but Jack wasn’t paying attention to their conversation. </p><p>
  <i>“Have you tried it yet?”<br/>
“Yes. He hasn’t noticed. Only on things he wouldn’t mind doing.”<br/>
“Can I try it out?”<br/>
“Of course.”</i>
</p><p>That is, until Fontaine snapped for Jack’s attention. “Hey, kid, would you kindly move the blue block to the otha’ side of your castle thing?”<br/>
Jack’s head started to buzz. His hand moved instinctively, seemingly without Jack’s input. He didn’t <i>want</i> the block over there, but it was there now. Weird.</p><p>The adults returned to talking.</p><p>Later, Jack was taken for lessons with Mama Tenenbaum. Their lessons usually consisted of learning words, numbers, and how things worked.<br/>
A few questions in, Jack spoke up. “Tenenbaum? Why can’t I go outside?”<br/>
Tenenbaum patted his shoulder. “Little one, the people outside are not ready for you yet. I promise you will see it one day.”<br/>
Jack brightened at that. “Ok!” he chimed.</p><p>------------</p><p>“Is that your puppy?”</p><p>Jack held his dog in his small “physical-eight-years-old” hands (He’d started to keep track of his age). He’d had the dog for only a few days. When Tenenbaum had given her to him, she’d looked sad. Jack liked his dog.</p><p>“She’s very pretty.”<br/>
“Thank you, Papa Suchong.” Jack was getting much better at communicating.</p><p>He’d been let into the main room for testing. He’d wondered why Papa Suchong asked him to bring his dog, but he didn’t want to make Suchong mad by asking.</p><p>“Break her neck for me.”<br/>
Jack’s smile fell. “What?” His face paled. Why would he do that?<br/>
“Break that sweet puppy’s neck.”<br/>
Jack’s breath quickened. Why would he even ask that? “No, please!” He held the dog tighter.<br/>
“Break that puppy’s neck, would you kindly?”<br/>
Jack’s head started to buzz. “No…” His hands were moving already. “No..!” Her neck was so small.</p><p>The dog gave a shrill squeak.<br/>
“Very good.”</p><p>Jack dropped the dog. He ran to his room.</p><p>Jack crawled onto his cot and started to panic. He held onto his arms and started to rock back and forth. His mind just repeated, <i>What was that what was that what was that!?!</i><br/>
Jack stared at his hands. Why had he done that!? He didn’t want to!</p><p>He played back the scene in his head.</p><p>“...would you kindly?”</p><p>He’d felt that way before.</p><p>Every time those three words had been spoken before, Jack had gotten a weird feeling and acted with little input.<br/>
Were they controlling him?<br/>
And, if so, how much? His thoughts, too?</p><p>Jack started to cry. Loudly. It was more like pained screaming. His throat hurt, but he didn’t stop until he heard, “Stop screaming, would you kindly?”<br/>
<i>There it is again!</i> A buzz in his ears and Jack’s hands were clamped over his mouth. He couldn’t move them. His confirmed fears only made him sob harder, albeit not audible to anyone outside the room.</p><p>He tried biting his hands, but that just hurt, so he stopped.</p><p>Jack rocked back and forth, tears streaming down his face and onto the cot.</p><p>Hands glued to his mouth and his eyes being the only light source in his room, Jack curled up into a ball.</p><p>
  <i>What am I?</i>
</p><p>------------</p><p>Jack learned the basement was not a nice place very quickly. He wasn’t here to learn, he was here to be experimented on.</p><p>Once they knew he was aware of this, they didn’t hold anything back. Tests were more painful, harder to get through without whimpering at least once. At least until they ordered him to stop.</p><p>At least Mama Tenenbaum was still nice, kinda. She still taught him about what the world was like and such. He tried asking her about what he was, but she didn’t answer. She never used the Phrase, at least.</p><p>The tests that used the Phrase were the worst.</p><p>Once, Jack had been sent to Suchong, to which Jack was dreading as it was only two days after he’d snapped a dog’s neck.</p><p>He’d been told to stand still, not ordered, thankfully.</p><p>“Would you kindly break your pinky finger?”</p><p>Jack paled as his right hand snatched his left finger and pulled. Jack screamed. Hot pain filled his senses as he fell to his knees, clutching the damaged hand. Tears rolled down his face and he sobbed.</p><p>
  <i>“Test successful. Baby can obey commands that harm himself.”</i>
</p><p>Jack wanted to run away but he couldn’t move. Suchong was still talking. Jack’s hands shook.</p><p>“Would you kindly be quiet?”</p><p>Jack’s uninjured hand hit his mouth, holding it shut.</p><p>“Go use the medkit in your room.”</p><p>Jack was finally willingly obeying a command as he sprinted to his room. Tenenbaum had taught him how to use medkits. He wrapped his finger with his now free right hand. He didn’t want to talk or scream anymore. He couldn’t, he realized. Not because of the Phrase, but because he was too scared to open his mouth.</p><p>
  <i>No talking.</i>
</p><p>So Jack didn’t.</p><p>~</p><p>Jack thought of escape often, though he knew it wasn’t possible. The door was always locked, and someone was always near it even if it wasn’t.</p><p>Once, he’d made a break for it, wiggling the door knob in desperate hope that it’d open. He got caught, of course, and they made him break his finger again. It hurt a bit less the second time.</p><p>~</p><p>They taught him how to use weapons. For what, he wasn’t sure. Probably for whatever they’d made him to do.</p><p>He wished he knew why they were doing this. No one answered him if he asked.</p><p>He started to notice that whenever he got too stressed, he couldn’t talk anymore. They were confused by this, too, because they kept asking why he was quiet. </p><p>Sometimes they punished him for it, but it didn’t do anything. It only made him stay quiet longer.</p><p>Eventually, they concluded it was due to stress and stopped bothering him about it. Jack was grateful.</p><p>~</p><p>There weren’t many kind words spoken in the basement.</p><p>Once, he was pressed to his door, cradling his injured shoulder. The two scientists were on the other side, arguing.</p><p>
  <i>“It’s too much for him!”<br/>
“We didn’t make him to think. We made him to serve!”<br/>
“He’s just a child!”</i>
</p><p>Jack didn’t want to listen, but he did anyway.</p><p>They called him things, too. “Slave” was the most common. Runner-ups were “freak” or “experiment” and such.</p><p>Jack hoped they couldn’t hear him cry some nights.</p><p>He tried to be hopeful. Tenenbaum had said he’d be outside someday. Sometimes that was the only thing that kept his spirits up. At least they didn’t take away his toys.</p><p>~</p><p>The tests weren’t always bad. Sometimes they were just odd.</p><p>One day, they taught him how to “swim,” which they said was, “very important for the plan.” Jack didn’t mind swimming. It was a bit hard at first, but he had been “made to gain skills quicker than a normal human.”</p><p>Jack didn’t like it when they implied he wasn’t human.</p><p>That aside, they’d actually let him have a bit of fun swimming. Granted, he tried not to make them mad, so he didn’t “splash” around too much.</p><p>He was a bit sad when they took him back that day.</p><p>~</p><p>They had very high expectations of Jack. He was made to grow faster than normal and learn faster than normal.</p><p>So it was not pleasant when he failed.</p><p>“Go ahead.”</p><p>Jack leveled the gun, remembering what they taught him. He shot, and cringed when he heard the loud sound that followed. When he looked, he was off target.</p><p>“Disappointing.”</p><p>Jack’s breath quickened. “S-Sorry! I-I can do it again.”</p><p>“I figured you could at least-”</p><p>“No, no! I-I can do it.” Jack was trembling. “Let me try again.”</p><p>~</p><p>Jack didn’t really know what being a ‘kid’ meant. He’d never had a ‘childhood,’ at nine months he was about sixteen.</p><p>He hoped this wasn’t what they were supposed to be like.</p><p>The only things he knew about Rapture and the surface were taught by Tenenbaum, but sometimes he wondered if they lied to him and told him what he wanted to hear. He wouldn’t put it past them. His lessons with Tenenbaum had been slowing lately.</p><p>They kept whispering about ‘getting close.’</p><p>He’d stopped seeing Fontaine months ago, and something told him he wouldn’t again. He considered this good, as Fontaine would probably have been mean to him, like Suchong.</p><p>Jack sat on his bed, a bandage around his wrist and a patch on his cheek.</p><p>He wanted to leave. He didn’t have much faith that’d happen anymore.</p><p>Even if it did, what would they make him do up there? It’s not like once he’s out he’s free, the chains tattooed on his wrist weren’t put there for no reason. What did they have planned for him? It was clearly important, or they wouldn’t put so much effort into him.<br/>
They wouldn’t teach him how to use weapons if that was the case.</p><p>He leaned back in his bed.</p><p>He made a promise to himself that day. He promised that no matter what happened, no matter what they had planned, he would be freed. He didn’t care what came after him, there was no power under the sun that would break this promise.</p><p>Jack would break these chains.</p><p>And he’d never be a slave again.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>yes i have in fact read handplates :) (i stole a few lines for the second-to-last paragraph.) go read it :)<br/>anyway thanks!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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